The Resistance, or protests against Trump beginning since November 8th of 2016, fights for peace and justice for all people. However, Pepsi recently decided that they want to fight for peace and justice for all people…while selling cans of their soda for loads of money.

In the recent 2-minute commercial, Kendall Jenner is modeling in front of photographers while a demonstration is taking place outside the modeling studio. The commercial features small clips of couples kissing, a hijabi Muslim taking pictures, among Trump opposers protesting in the streets. Later, Kendall removes herself from the studio and joins in on the demonstration by giving one police officer a Pepsi; as a result of her valiant act, the Resistance cheers, and multiple people begin drinking Pepsi.

This is problematic in so many ways, so let’s break it down:

1. Kendall Jenner is obtaining fame through a political commercial, yet she has never been political before this.

Besides mentioning her approval and support for then-candidate Hillary Clinton, Kendall has absolutely done no protesting of Trump and his radical policies. In an Instagram post, Jenner announced her support of Clinton, captioning one of her photos as “Shirt by @themarcjacobs. History by @hillaryclinton.” Despite being a female member of one of the most outspoken families in the country, Kendall Jenner has failed to attend little to any protests. But some protests weren’t in her area, so we’ll just let that slide… wrong. Kendall Jenner failed to attend the Women’s March, a series of protests held around the entire globe, even in remote places with small populations.

2. Pepsi is appropriating the Resistance for money.

Pepsi also, as a company, has never taken a stance on politics. Similar to Kendall’s issue, Pepsi is using their platform not to provoke change, but to make money off of the suffering of others.

3. Kendall Jenner wasn’t arrested, but Ieshia Evans was.

In 2016, Ieshia Evans was arrested by the police for protesting the death of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge. The photo sparked controversy, but a similar set-up occurred in this Pepsi video. Kendall came face to face with the police, but instead of receiving handcuffs, she gave them a Pepsi and receive cheers and applause. The Huffington Post says:

The image of Jenner approaching the police line is all too similar to the widely shared photo of Black Lives Matter protester Ieshia Evans in Baton Rogue in 2016, as Elle notes. Unlike Jenner, however, Evans was arrested. If only she had a Pepsi in hand.

This is just one of the countless examples of when celebrities use their fame to exploit national crises and obtain money. Like Gigi Hadid embracing her Palestinian side, the rest of Taylor Swift’s white girl squad is appropriating the struggles of millions of Americans.

Notes: Honestly, I’m kinda mixed about this entire thing? I don’t think it’s as good as some of the other stuff I’ve written. The idea was so good for this too! I got the idea from an episode of Attack of Titan while I was in my slump. So, please, any feedback ya’ll have would be appreciated.

Age 12 - First Jupiter Return: The ancients celebrated puberty because the biological God and Goddess of creation had been awakened and it was a sacred time in one’s life. This was recognised with jubilance and honour. Jupiter rules hormones and cultural conditioning. In modern times we shame and denigrate the phase, remarking on hormonal changes that inconvenience society, and yet we wonder why teenagers self destruct, rebel, and turn to substance. This changing biology transforms the lower body and activates the spirit, and yet we are not prepared or nurtured for this powerful change.

Age 14 - Jupiter opposes Saturn: The resistance to authority and conditioning is activated here, along with self consciousness and the lure into danger. This is the moment a young person can typically choose between ‘indulgence, laziness, and self pleasure’ (Jupiter) in leaving school or ‘responsibility, expectation, and conforming to authority’ (Saturn) in remaining in school or focusing on the future. The karmic lesson is revealed around this period. We face intimidating figures of authority, often threatening with ‘what until you’re in the real world’ shaking confidence even more

Age 21 - Uranus squares natal Uranus: 21 is the age globally recognised as completed transition into adulthood. This period indicates self expression and experimentation, a time for tattoos and lilac hair and inspiration. It’s a favourable time for sparking people’s interest in astrology. Political activity, protest, and rebellion can begin around here. Cosmically, this is a time where people learn a lot about themselves and generate good self awareness, they start to feel wholly in their body, or as if fogginess has dissolved

Age 28-30 - First Saturn Return: Everything you have built until this point is under threat. Saturn writes his first report card, and it will rely on how intimate and satisfactory you have been in facilitating Saturn’s condition in the natal chart. This is the biggest overhaul we experience on a physical/mental level, when the anchor of the chart completes transit and writes a new criteria. We are given 29 years because the reading material and substance is so profound. Harsh reality hits with shattering force. It’s time to become an adult.

“What’s it like?” Bittle asked one evening as they settled on Jack’s couch with their nightcaps: red wine for Bittle, chamomile tea for Jack. “Being bi?”

Jack chuckled. “That’s a complicated questions, Bits.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Bittle said, taking a small sip of the petite syrah Jack’s parents had sent them after Jack announced their relationship. “You’ve heard all my bellyachin’ about growing up gay in Georgia-” He was cut off momentarily by the beginnings of Jack’s protests, but waved him off. “Fine, my completely legitimate struggles. Better?”

Jack grinned and nodded. Bittle rolled his eyes fondly.

“But you rarely talk about your experiences. When did you know you weren’t straight? How did you realize you liked girls and boys? Was it harder or easier or just different being bi in Juniors?”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Jack said mildly, blowing at the steam rising from his mug.

“Of course I have,” Bittle said with an exasperated look. “I think about you a lot.”

“We’ve been here for over an hour!” you
whined, pacing the small empty room, dust particles swirling up into the
sunlight with each step. “When do we make the drop?”

“When
I’m ready,” your partner hissed, clearly annoyed with your impatience, “We’re
the ones with the goods, they’ll wait and right now I’ve got a lurker that’s
been hanging around at the corner for too long.”

“Lemme
see.” You pushed your way to the window, picking up the heavy binoculars from
the floor.

Ever think about what needy Harry would be like? Like after he’s just returned home from a long tour or the set of his latest film and he can’t get enough of your snuggles, cuddles, and kisses.

It’s most apparent in the mornings when he wakes up super happy, all smiles for his girl, because he can’t believe that after so many long, lonely nights he’s finally got you back right next him.

And he just can’t help but stare at you while you sleep. He’s mesmerized by the little tug at your eyebrow and small frown on your lips when something displeases you in your dreams. He’s satisfied that the slight brush of his fingers against the skin of your stomach eases the displeasure and allows a more serene look to overtake your features. But you stir not long after and catch him staring, causing him to get a bit shy and bury his face in his hands.

the amount of absolutely mindblowingly stupid and wrong facts about what is happening here in Hamburg at the moment that go around on both tumblr and twitter is atrocious.

- there are massive protests against certain policies, behaviour of politicians and some other topics

- they turned violent

- in some instances the police are escalating situations (weather that is deliberate or they are simply not trained well enough is up for debate)

- there have been tons of peaceful protests these past few days, the vast majority actually.

- a certain group of people is deliberately vandalising things (they are neither the majority nor were they there to peacefully protest in the beginning - they’ve come with the explicit wish to do harm)

- no one is protesting bc “we don’t like Trump” - we really don’t like him but this protest is not about him and you all need to take a step back and stop trying to make it about you.

- this is not “a war zone”, “civil war” or whatever extremely stupid other analogy you want to push onto this. stop making comparisons like that.

peter is a really generous lover, like… you never have to go down on him (though he adores it when you do)

his favorite way to take you is in missionary (he loves to grind into you and look at your face as it contorts in pleasure)

he isn’t very kinky, though a major thing of his is love bites and scratch marks on his back

he is really confident in bed, though outside of your intimate moments he’s still your awkward little college student peter

since he’s always doing homework, you sometimes climb into his lap while he’s reading, snatch away his books/papers, and as he begins to protest and sees the look in your eyes as you bite your lip, a devilish grin overtakes his features

he loves to make out with you, it’s his favorite past time

ummmmmmm???? hair pulling????? i think YES

surprisingly, his biggest turn on is doing it in public

like, whether you’re at a party in the bathroom, in a janitor’s closet on campus, or behind a tree in a children’s park, he adores making you cum hard and fast, muffling your moans with his hand or mouth

did i mention he tried to make you guys a sex swing out of his webbing

his dick got caught on it

he loves when you ride him

he’s an ass and thigh man, sorry

sometimes when he’s doing push ups you’ll slip under him and every time he comes down, he’ll kiss you

this leads to very sweaty gym sex

did i mention his arms

your favorite sight of all time (and his favorite activity) is when he’s fingering you and you see the way his muscles flex underneath his taught skin

Fandom loves to talk about “real racism.” Not about racist policies and acts themselves, but about racism out in the “real world” that affects “real people.”

Fandom and online racism, by contrast, is not real because … all I can think of is because a person of color can’t be physically assaulted through a screen.

The implication that fandom/online racism doesn’t affect real people and doesn’t affect the offline world, or that it isn’t important like “serious” racism, is a silencing tactic. You don’t look like a superior ally if you ignore fandom racism with the excuse that you fight “real world” racism. Fandom racism is real world racism.

If you don’t like it when people of color talk about race in fandom spaces, you likely aren’t more welcoming of it in school and work environments. If you make excuses for fandom racism, you’ll likely excuse education and employment racism. Sure, when there’s KKK violence, you’ll be outraged. When Trump puts the lives of Muslim refugees in danger, you’ll take note. Maybe you’ll even protest. But understand, racism doesn’t begin and end with extreme acts. One of the reason racism has flourished in the United States is because it has been defined by extremes, to the point where seemingly small things that people do without a second thought, things that culminate into big things like segregation, are not considered racist.

When you disregard one kind of racism as too trivial to matter, you’re allowing it to flourish, and that does have real world repercussions.

Shots of Paris in a thousand different lights, cold and dreary in February captioned ‘wonderful for a book and cup of coffee’. Gardens alive on a June night, location set to ‘mon cour’. The university riseing above notes, shots of buildings, roads, graffitii, churches and cafes. Small notices about a protest, or bill, always tagged protectparis

And its very impersonal, never a selfie or a photo of a friend, but its very beautiul- the love the photographer holds for the ciy is palpitable,

And then it begins to change

There are still phtoos pf Paris, still shots from protests, but now there are also people. First a weathered hand holding a cup of coffee on a rainy day, tagged ‘wonderful conversation, wonderful coffee’. Then a cafe window lit up in the dark with a poet tagged. A man holding a notebook in the famous libraries of the university. A diffrent man smiling holding a bouquet of tri colored flowers.

Names begin to apear over and over - Courfeyrac, Jehan, Grantarie, Combeferre, Bosset, and many more

Photos from game nights, pincincs, rallies begin to apear and it is still beautiful. It its still clear that the the photographer loves Paris- but now it is clear that he loves others as well, friends and lovers and humans- that people are as beloved as places and ideas, that there is a person behind the camera.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM NAMJOONNNNNNNNNN!!! Love of my life, seriously. I have some many feels towards this man, ahhhhh

Anyway! Please enjoy this story! I’m not sure if there will be more following this, but if there is, I’ll be writing it at my own pace, whenever I feel like it, so ^^ fair warning~

In the meantime, please enjoy! It’s been a while since I posted the prologue, so if you need a refresher, or haven’t read it, I suggest you go and do that~ <3

You’re too tipsy to deal with anyone else tonight. Dragging
your friend’s home from the bar had been trouble enough—especially when
multiple male demons had paused you along your route to flirt and offer
companionship for the night. Somehow you’d managed to convince them to turn
down the strange offers, and had finally
managed to shove them through the front door of their apartment building. You
hadn’t even bothered walking them up to their floor, too fed up and tired and horny (you blame it on the alcohol) to
even think about wasting another second on their drunken asses.

Managing to hurriedly walk home to your own apartment, you
tumble inside and lock the door behind you. Third level rarely has many crimes,
but you can never be too safe—especially when the residents of each level are
allowed to travel freely…for the most part.

Dragging yourself through the tiny kitchen of your studio
style flat, you pad into the main area and pull your tight fitting shirt over
your head, shivering as the soft fabric brushes over perky nipples. Despite
your minds weak protests, you’d decided to be a little…adventurous in your
evening out, and had ventured around town without a bra. It excited you—like
your own little secret…unless someone was sharp enough to notice, but at that
point they’d earned the treat of knowing anyways.

Sighing blissfully, you sensually coast your hands across
your chest, gripping the soft mounds. The artificially made moonlight
illuminates every inch of your body, but on the third story of the building
with no one else around, you can’t be bothered to draw the curtains, far too
occupied by the way your vagina aches for more with each tug of your nipples
between your fingers.

Head lolling back, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks,
you continue to pleasure yourself, crafting an imaginary scene behind your
eyelids to aid the growing pool of heat between your legs. Immediately, like
all the other times, a tall, dark figure comes to mind. You can’t see the face
of the man, but his body is sinful—his hands possessive as he grabs at you. You
imagine him feasting on your breasts—all tongue and teeth—his vocabulary sinful
as he stakes his claim, making you his.

“Fuck…,” you breathe hotly, your panties becoming soaked,
and you hurry to undress yourself. Looping your thumbs under the band of your
pants and also your panties, you tug them down in one fell swoop, kicking them
from around your ankles and tossing yourself onto your bed.

One of your hands coasts down the expanse of your chest and
stomach, migrating between your thighs. Your wetness immediately covers your
fingers as you pull apart your folds, clit throbbing with anticipation.

However, before you get the chance to touch your clit and
pleasure yourself to your release, you’re interrupted. There’s a tap at your
balcony window, and your eyes shoot open, blood running cold when you see a man
sitting there, smirk on his face.

And not just any man…its Jungkook.

“Yah!” you screech at him as he innocently tugs at the glass
door wall, happiness apparent on his features when he finds that it’s not
locks. Sliding it open, clearly not caring of your state of undress or the fact
that you’re bounding to your feet, haphazardly wrapping the white bed sheet
around yourself, Jungkook steps inside.

“Maybe I should hang around your apartment more often,” he
comments teasingly as he glances you up and down, and you scowl, knowing that
he can tell how red your face has turned.

For the most part, you’re unfamiliar with Jungkook, but you
know him. Everyone does. And for the most part, in return, he knows everyone.
It’s his job to keep track of third level residents, after all, so he’d made a
point to become acquainted with everyone. So, in the most basic sense, you know
him. You’d encountered him maybe about a dozen time during your stay, and none
had been unpleasant—in fact, you’d actually sort of taken a liking to his fun
yet somewhat shy personality. But now—with him approaching you slowly, hidden
intent marking his gaze—you’re wondering where that dash of shyness went, and
if you’d ever known him at all.

“Y/N,” he beckons, voice calm. Jungkook extends his hand
towards you, and your heart thrums, fingers twitching at your side because even
though you have no goddamn clue as to why he’s here, he’s…tempting.

But you hold your ground, not giving in, your eyes narrowing
at him.

“Why are you here?”

Jungkook grins and rolls his eyes. “You ask too many
questions.”

Before you can blink, Jungkook is suddenly chest-to-chest
with you, your nipples poking through the sheet and pressing into his sculpted
chest.

“Hey–!” you begin to protest—because that’s the first damn
question you’ve asked!—but Jungkook silences you with his lips, his tongue
lapping up your surprised gasp and contented moan. Sadly, your contentment
doesn’t last long—shattering the moment Jungkook grabs the end of the sheet
you’re using to shield yourself and tugs—hard.

His strength obviously inhuman, you’re sent spinning and are
only saved from sure disaster to yourself and your apartment by the fact that
Jungkook grabs you—his hands steady on your waist as he waits for your head to
stop spinning.

“You asshole!” is the first thing you cry, pounding your
fist against his chest, knowing that he probably doesn’t even feel it. Having
the balls to laugh at your futile efforts to detach yourself from him, Jungkook
slips his hands down your sides—causing you to shiver—and grips each of your
ass cheeks. He then proceeds to lift you up, leaning backwards so your chest is
pressed flush to his, and without warning launches backwards and flies from
your apartment window.

“Jungkook!” you scream, goosebumps prickling your skin as
the night air rushes over you. Down below you can see buildings and a few
scarce people in the late hours of the night, but that doesn’t fix your
embarrassment in the least. Jungkook—the goddamn little shit of a guardian—is
holding you by your ass, naked, and flying you over the entire damn city.

“Yes?” he finally responds, humor in his voice, and you
match his gaze, eyes ablaze.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you hiss in a harsh whisper,
not wanting to be seen or heard, dear god.
“Put me down this instant!”

“Yeah?” he grins, licking his lips, and all of the sudden
his grip on your ass disappears. You startle, eyes going wide as you fall away
from him.

“Wai–!”

Before you can even finish there’s a strong hand on your
ankle, and you squeal as you flip upside down, hair falling down towards the
fading city below.

“Jungkook!” you
scream, attempting to clench your legs together, but it seems Jungkook has
already gotten a perfect eyeful of your attributes, his teasing gaze now filled
with undeniable hunger.

“I’m jealous,” he says, flipping you with ease, cradling you
in his arms as if you’re a princess. “But He’s already asked for you, so I
can’t lay my claim.”

You blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What the hell is
he talking about?

“What? Who asked for me? What the fuck is going on,
Jungkook. You literally just came into my home and stole me away—while I was
naked, mind you, which is unkind—to me and everyone, considering no one needs
to see what it is I’ve got going on.”

“If you ever come back to third level and are returned to my
domain, I promise I’ll show just how
wrong you are…”

You gulp, thighs tightening as the threat tugs on the orgasm
which you had been unable to reach just a few minutes earlier. You want to ask
him what he’d do—because dear god the thought is suddenly so wonderful to
imagine—but more importantly…

“Why would I not come back to third level?? Jungkook, where
the fuck are you taking me?”

- Hiiiii! Could you possibly do a Johnny smut??? Like idc what it’s about as long as he is dominant af because have you met him? Tysm in advance! - Can you please make one for johnny. - Could you please do a Johnny smut but something that has to do with Trey Songz- Love Faces lol please and thank you

- Can we get some lovely Johnny smut to celebrate his debut?^^

author: ADMIN NI, MAN

genre: smut

word count: 1,953

a/n: HIIIIIIIIII. It’s been forever, guys… Thank you guys for requesting so much of my bias, my baby, my Johnny… there’s still so much more I get to do for him!!! I hope y’all like it(;;;;;;;;;;;; seriously love you all so much, you request such good stuff. btw I didn’t proof read so there is bound to be some errors

Notes: Guys! I have a bunch of requests sent in, but it’ll take a while for me to get to them! So if you want to find it once it’s posted I recommend not sending it on anon! Also, it really helps if you specify what character you want the fic written about! Thanks!!

So many of you guys requested a part two for “Intentions,” so here it is!Hope you guys like it xx

Title: Ice CreamPairing: Harry Hook x readerSummary: Harry interrupts an ice cream trip between you and Ben and is determined for his intentions to finally be fulfilledWord Count: 1,238Warnings: food mention, mild sexual tension but nothing legitimateNotes: be sure to read the first part here

"How
many more times do I have to thank you?“ Ben complains. "I already
bought you ice cream.”

"One,
you always buy me ice cream,“ you answer, happily taking a spoonful of the
cold treat. "And two, Harry’s still annoying me, so I expect many more
thank you’s.”

"You
called?“

You
don’t even need to feel the hook gently brush against the underside of your
chin to know it’s Harry, but of course, he does it anyway. You roll your eyes
as Harry pulls up a chair beside you and puts his arm around your shoulders.
Ben just gives you a stern look, silently telling you to be nice.

Emma Swan doesn’t want to spend a single night away from her pirate, least of all the night before their wedding.Attempts of persuasion through text message ensue.

Emma (10:45): I miss you already.

Emma (10:45):I hate being apart.

Killian looks down at his phone, after the third incessant buzz, and his heart clenches in his chest. He misses her too. Does she not see that? Does she think he wants to spend more than a second away from her?

Killian (10:47):Aye, love. I miss you too but it’s tradition.

He doesn’t know the rules when it comes to this sort of thing, if texting counts or if it doesn’t. They don’t really have anything like texting in the Enchanted Forrest so, for all he knows, this could bring just as bad of luck. But he’s willing to take the risk if only to bring her some sense of peace, unable to stand the thought of her alone in their house, thinking he doesn’t want to be with her so much it bloody hurts.

Whimpering softly, you dragged your useless body across the filthy floor boards of the two story abandoned barn. At least you had thought it had been abandoned when you entered, seeking shelter from the raging thunder storm outside. As soon as you had walked past the threshold, the thing had attacked, sending you into what he most likely thought was a happy dream not knowing you were different.

It had taken you hours to fight against the poison while hot, searing agony had torn through your nerves.You couldn’t scream, paralyzed, your body useless and broken, so you had done the one thing you could do. You used your powers just as two men had charged into the building, waving stakes and guns.

Piercing green eyes had stared you down as the monster before you imploded, vile hatred simmering in the most beautiful deep green orbs you had ever seen, an accusation on the tip of his tongue.

You had thrown up a shield, dragging your sorry butt out as fast as you could, which was little better than a snail’s pace at present. You could hear their heavy footfalls, smell the whiskey and leather as they moved closer to you. Exhausted, you flip yourself onto your back, intending to only rest a moment, to catch your breath, maybe do something about the blood pouring out of you in buckets.

“What are you?” the green eyed one asked as he looms over you, his deep voice resonates in your bones, sending your heart into overdrive. His gun raised, pointing squarely at your head, the blast wouldn’t kill you, but man would it hurt.

You try to scramble backward, legs hanging limply, fear and adrenaline sending you back a foot as he takes two long strides toward you, crouches, pinning you to the floor. You freeze, staring up at him wide eyed. “Please! Please help me,” you beg, as your arms give out. “I’m human, I can’t… I won’t hurt you. Please!” you scream as you begin to sob.

He merely cocks an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a human blow up a monster without a weapon, sweetheart,” he quips sarcastically, raising the gun once more only to be stopped by an older man.

“Wait,” the elder man commands.

The green eyed man freezes instantly, looking to the newcomer for direction. “What’s your name?” he barks at you.

Still crying you sob out a, “(Y/N),” tired beyond all comprehension.

The older man watches you carefully, kneels down, takes a swipe of your blood onto his finger and licks it clean. Eyes snapping to you, full of curiosity, he mutters, “She’s human. Get her up, Dean. She needs patching up.”

Dean stares at his father in disbelief, eyes shooting between the two of you. “Dad-” he begins to protest.

“Now, Dean. I’ll explain in the car.”

Dean nods once, and with care, you had not expected from him, he hauls you into his arms, cradling you gently against his chest. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you patched up. You’ll be good as new in no time,” he murmurs as he carries you to a sleek black car.

Your vision whites out and you sink blissfully into unconsciousness, a deep sense of safety washing over you.

Present:

Tony had installed a love seat in your room. It overlooked the rolling greens of the compound, and you spent most of your off days reclining in it, reading a book, or contemplating the mess which was your life. Which is what you were currently doing. The ever present ache in your chest had not diminished as the days had passed,

Bucky had gone on as if nothing had happened, picking up where he left off with soft touches and cuddles, slipping into your bedroom in the middle of the night, wrapping himself around you, burying his face in your neck. These moments, so precious, so maddening, were killing you, slowly.

You craved more.

More closeness, more contact, and Bucky being Bucky gave it to you. He was by your side constantly and you were drowning in him; longing for something he wasn’t willing to give you or wasn’t able to, you hardly knew anymore.

“(Y/N),” Vision monotones.

You let out an undignified shriek, bolting from your seat at the window and dropping into a defensive stance. A red ball of power flickers in your hand, eyes darting wildly around the room searching for any sign of danger. Finally settling on the floating entity before you, breathing out a huff of annoyance, you extinguish the flare in your hand, rising to your full height. “Viz, what have we said about knocking?” you ask as you watch him glance at the door.

“Tony is in the lobby. There are two men who claim to know you.” He inclines his head at your panicked expression.

“These men… what do they look like?” you ask nervously. Your heart feels as if an icy hand is clutching at it, and dread coils in your stomach making you nauseous.

“Tall, muscular, clad in plaid.”

Shooting out of your seat, ignoring the protests of Vision, you hurtle down the hallway. Completely bypassing the elevator, you sink through the floors to land lightly behind Steve.

The lobby held the entire team, including Bucky, and the hot coil in your stomach tightens. Taking a deep breath, you push your way past Steve and Bucky, coming to a halt when you make eye contact with him.

His chest heaves once, his green eyes sparkling with emotion. His fists balled tightly at his sides, his face is soft, open as he drinks you in. He doesn’t speak, merely stares. His hands relax, fingers twitching, almost beckoning you, pleading with you.

Your muscles respond before your brain catches up, Taking two steps forward, you’re going to him, coming to a stop, barely inches between you. You can barely breathe, your mind a complete blank as he smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the corners.

The smile slips off his face. True to your relationship with him, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his strong arms around you, knowing what you need before you do. He lifts you off the ground slightly, he crushes you too him. His arms tightening almost painfully around you. When he’s had his fill he sets you down, his hand automatically going to your ponytail, wrapping it around his fist as you bury your face in his chest.

The smell of whiskey, bacon and cheese burgers and leather fill your nose. You blink back the tears threatening to fall. The nostalgia the smell brings is nearly overwhelming. Feelings you thought long dead and dealt with burst in your chest. Love mingled with sorrow and rejection, happiness and pain, all forming a deep connection that pulls you to him like a magnet. You couldn’t part with him. It was physically painful. The mere thought sent a lance of pain through your head.

“De,” you whisper, clutching at his shirt, fearing that if you let go he would be gone. Again.

He tugs lightly at the ends of your hair and your shoulders relax, your body melding effortlessly with his.

Sam clears his throat, dispelling the tension you had failed to notice.

Your head snaps up, blinking rapidly at the man standing to your left. “Sammy!” you shriek happily, dislodging yourself from dean and throwing yourself at Sam.

“Hey, Shads,” he spins you around once, chuckling happily as you cling to him.

The smile Dean graces the two of you with could power a third world country.

Sam sets you on your feet, your eyes scanning the lobby for your favorite angel, coming to a stop when you see Bucky.

The rising happiness you feel is crushed instantly when you take in his expression. A deep scowl, anger shimmering in his eyes. He raises his eyes to meet yours, slipping into his Winter Soldier persona without hesitation. He regards you coldly.

“Explain!” he snaps, and you take an involuntary step backward, bumping into Dean’s chest.

He wraps an arm around you, and Bucky growls.

Fear blossoms, you know he can see it.

Sam maneuvers in front of you while Dean drags you behind him, muscle memory and years of experience kicking in.

Steve comes to the rescue. “Pal, you should go work it off,” he orders, regarding the Winchesters with curiosity.

Bucky doesn’t budge an inch, his eyes trained firmly on Dean. A silent stand off ensues, fraught with danger. Any second someone was’ going to start swinging.

Fearing for them both, you slip out of Dean’s grasp and inch cautiously forward. “Hey, B,” you croon softly.

His eyes snap to yours immediately.

You stop in front of him. “I’m going to take your hand now, okay?” you say softly, gently taking his hand.

His shoulders relax slightly, the scowl easing off his face.

“We’re okay,” you remind him, and his eyes losing their hard edge. “Will you walk me to my room, Sarge?” you ask lightly.

He quirks a crooked smile. “How can I say no ta a pretty dame like you doll?”

You breathe an internal sigh of relief, casting a last glance over your shoulder.

Dean’s face is pinched into a frown, his gaze catches yours. He smiles reassuringly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You can’t help the feeling of dread that floods your chest as Bucky escorts you to the elevator, stepping inside you chance a last look at your past, Dean rounds on Steve, you can feel the venom as he spits out his words, his shoulders tense and his jaw ticking as Steve replies, you can’t make out the words, the elevator door obscuring your line of sight as it closes.

You peer at Bucky, a small smirk plastered on his face as he reaches for your hand, you grit your teeth against the annoyance, hitting the emergency stop button and rounding on him. “You can’t do that James” you say angrily, he drops his gaze to the floor, “He touched you” he replies sulkily, you can’t help the twinge of hope that springs to life, or the way your lips twitch into a smile, reigning yourself in you let go of his hand, taking a step away from him. “Steve and Sam touch me. Wanda and Nat too, hell even Vision does, I’ve never seen you react that way” you challenge, raising your eyebrows and placing your hands on your hips.

Bucky scoffs out loud “Steve doesn’t touch you like you’re his. Sam doesn’t hold you the way he did, you do not melt into Wanda and you don’t look like you belong with Nat” he replies shortly, his words clipped and harsh. Chuckling humorlessly, you poke a finger at his chest, anger rising swiftly, hot and vile “you have no right to be jealous. I’m giving you what you want, friendship and only friendship” you snap, he grabs the offending finger, pulling you towards him, you’re inches away from him, so close you can see the flecks of green in his eyes “That is not the point Shadow, Dean or whatever the fuck his name is, wants something from you, I saw the way he looked at you, possessive and hungry, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you” he growls, shaking you by the shoulders “And you let him, you let him touch you, you forgot the hurt, and you ran to him like a fucking puppy after its master” he adds harshly, the words like a bucket of ice water thrown over you, you rip yourself out of his grip, snarling as you hit the Emergency Stop button, the elevator jumps back to life, jostling you both as it continues its upward trajectory.

“You have no right” you hiss, staring straight ahead, the cold glint of the metal reflecting off of Bucky’s arm, you don’t say anything else, needing to get as far away from him as possible, the Elevator grinds to a halt, the doors opening too slowly for your liking, you step through and stop, turning to face a very angry Bucky Barnes.

“If you didn’t want me to be with someone else James, you shouldn’t have insisted on just being friends. I am not a second choice, and i will not wait for you to get over whatever the fuck is going on in your head, figure it out” you snap, chest heaving with anger, your face is flushed, fists clenching at your sides.

“You didn’t want me when you could’ve had me, I’m not a backup plan, I wanted you to choose me every day like I chose you. You’re selfish and bitter and I am done being your filler girl!” and with that, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Bucky open mouthed and fuming in the compounds elevator.